


Desire

by imperfectkreis



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Blood, Consent Issues, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9330797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectkreis/pseuds/imperfectkreis
Summary: The Outsider cannot help himself. He knows Corvo Attano is to be sent to Dunwall. But otherwise, his future is obscured.





	

“You're beautiful. Do you have any idea?”

“Should I pretend that I don't?” The Outsider smiles, threading his fingers into the spaces between Corvo’s coat buttons, stretching his long fingers wide. They're shiny and brass. The coat is a gift from the Duke. Corvo is not meant to wear it until the shores of Gristol are in sight. Fine-threaded wrapping for a handsome gift, intended for an Emperor. Not a strange man Corvo meets in a dockside tavern. “Is it better for you, if I play naive to my own charms?”

Corvo laughs in return, lips tugging upward. 

They will keep meeting like this, the Outsider knows. They will meet as if they're strangers, separated by space and time. They should be opaque to one another. But space and time have other ideas for them. The Outsider has his own notions as well.

“I like you just as you are,” Corvo says.

That's a lie. 

Corvo lies very easily, because he believes, with his whole heart, that what he says is the truth. 

Corvo Attano is eighteen years old, cloudy drunk, and about to leave Karnaca. In the morning, he’ll be enroute for Dunwall. Charging head-first into a destiny the Outsider can't predict. When he tries to look, there's a great, gray fog, swirling around Corvo’s head, blotting out the constellations of possibility. He's so strange. And so, to the Outsider, he’s quite dear.

“Tell me again,” the Outsider takes both hands to the front of Corvo’s coat, unbuttoning latches one by one. What better tribute than the best swordsman that the Southern island has to offer? “Tell me again how beautiful I am?”

Corvo thrusts his hands against the Outsider’s hips, shoving him towards the rented bed. The girl downstairs, with dark curls and honey eyes, didn't ask any questions when the Outsider exchanged coin for keys.

“So beautiful, all I could think….could think,” Corvo throws them both into bed, bracketing his knees on either side of one of the Outsider’s thighs. He pushes his hands under the Outsider’s coat, trying to get at too-cold skin. His nails catch in paper-thin flesh, almost tearing as he rucks up the Outsider’s shirt and coat in one, ale-clumsy motion. “Could only think about…” His speech tastes of fermentation.

Even sober, Corvo isn't good with words. With articulation. Perhaps, when he's older he’ll make his tongue dance as beautifully as his feet. Perhaps he will be forced into elocution lessons. Perhaps he will hate them. Perhaps he will hate the girl he is supposed to protect. Perhaps he will love her. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. The Outsider does not know.

But for now, Corvo grinds his cock against the Outsider’s leg, leaning over to scrape his teeth over one exposed nipple, embarrassingly petal-pink, edging into gray. Corvo bites down, sharp and uninhibited. 

Groaning at the back of his throat, the Outsider fists his hands in Corvo’s hair. Unsure otherwise whether to pull or push or scream as Corvo teases, his mouth inexperienced and too rough, cutting into his nipple until it starts to bleed.

“I thought,” Corvo releases the nub from his assault, puffing warm air against the Outsider’s chest. “So beautiful. I want to ruin them, him, you. Make a mess.”

Tugging at Corvo’s hair, the Outsider pulls him up so they can kiss, a slick mesh of teeth and tongues and spit. He doesn't know. He doesn't know quite what he's doing. For all the times he's witnessed this from the confines of the Void. And from the times before that, when he was small, staying hidden in the darkness, with sex and loneliness all around him. Bodies coming together in copulation, thousands of times, thousands of circumstances, watching carnal pleasures with amusement, sometimes distaste. For all his watching, the Outsider can't quite make this body, his body, move the way he wants.

He wants to cling to Corvo, tooth and nail. Use him as an anchor to drag himself out of the depths.

So he latches his hand at the back of Corvo’s neck, binding their lips together, siphoning each other’s air. The Outsider surrenders his mouth, letting Corvo desperately search each inch he can reach with the punctuation of his tongue. The heavy weight of Corvo’s chest against his own makes it hard to breathe. The Outsider forgets he doesn't need air.

“Too many clothes,” Corvo stumbles, pulling off his already unbuttoned jacket and tossing it to the floor. The Outsider is already in disarray, trying to pull himself straight so he can at least find his buttons. The clothes don't matter. He’ll turn to ash after this, disappear in a cloud of salt-soaked air. Seep back into the Void, from where he escaped like a naughty teenager, leaving the window open a crack to the open night, in search of forbidden pleasures.

Is it so very awful that he wants this? Wants the man whose future he can't so much as glimpse?

Normally, there is at least a thread, a suggestion of who a man may grow to be.

When he looks at Corvo, the Outsider can only see the present moment. Red-bitten lips and sun-worn skin. Will he pale in the North?

Corvo’s blunt nails scrape against the Outsider’s stomach, trying to tug his belt off. He lays one palm against the bulge of the Outsider’s erection, pressing it back down against the inside of his thigh.

The Outsider hisses, “That hurts.”

With a grin, Corvo does it again, digging down the heel of his hand, “You like it?”

“Maybe,” the Outsider isn't sure. They should try again.

Corvo climbs atop him, naked to the waist, his trousers open in the front, hanging low on his sturdy hips, wider than the Outsider’s. Despite his youth, Corvo is already barrel-chested and bearded, when he gets too lazy to shave, which is most often the truth. The Outsider thinks it suits him.

“Pretty, pretty,” Corvo spreads his fingers wide over the expanse of the Outsider’s chest, covering up as much skin as he can hide under greedy hands.

“You could be using your mouth for other things,” the Outsider suggests, wrapping his hands around Corvo’s waist, steadying him in his lap.

Hesitating, Corvo tries to cover, “Yeah….well. Don't, don’t rush me.” His previous bravado fades.

“You know,” the Outsider drags his fingers back, leaving Corvo cold.

The Outsider is the one who knows. He doesn't know Corvo’s future, but he knows his past. Knows that Corvo has never bedded a man. Still, he didn't expect Corvo to turn to a shrinking violet. Instead anticipating all the unfounded confidence he projects when sticking his cock into whatever woman catches his eye. The Outsider has watched that, too.

Rolling his hips up, the Outsider lifts Corvo up onto his knees, forcing Corvo to push his weight back down, exert control. Corvo certainly had a particular sequence of events in mind, following a strange man to bed. How they would meet, with lips and hands, hips and cocks. Corvo may be impulsive, sometimes dangerous, but he rarely leaves himself so open as to be taken by surprise.

Stretching forward, Corvo grabs both of the Outsider’s wrists in a single hand, pinning them to the mattress over the Outsider’s head. Corvo is shorter, but not by much, and laying down like this, Corvo hovering over the Outsider’s prone body, it doesn't even matter. He uses his other hand to tug down the Outsider’s trousers, pulling them tight over his thighs as the Outsider tries to spread his legs.

Corvo wraps his hand around the Outsider’s cock, too rough and hard. He strokes fast enough to steal the Outsider’s breath, make him gasp and clench his body, staggering towards a too-quick release.

“Yeah,” Corvo rasps, his confidence returning, “you like that? Feels good?”

The Outsider drops his head back against the pillow. It smells of fire and someone else’s sweat. Corvo’s mouth tastes of grain alcohol and enthusiasm, each time their lips meet, sweeter than any words his clumsy mouth can manage.

“I want...I want…” Corvo repeats, before finally taking, instead of asking. He's better like this, without words in the back of his throat, stealing his confidence. The Outsider doesn't mind. Nothing Corvo can manage can hurt him. It's one of the truly lovely things about godhood.

He lets go of the Outsider’s wrists, grabbing at his hips instead. In a smooth, clean motion, he flips the Outsider over, stuffing his face against the mattress. Grabbing the back of the Outsider’s hair, Corvo wrenches his head to one side, sticking the fingers of his other hand close to the Outsider’s face, “suck them.”

This is more what the Outsider’s expected, though there is still a wavering in Corvo’s voice. He's play acting, somewhat poorly. Putting on the face of someone else.

But is the Outsider any different? Not particularly. Because it doesn't matter that some detached, ancient, part of himself knows that Corvo is crashing ahead without finesse. The Outsider’s body still aches in nervous anticipation, wrapping his lips around Corvo’s fingers and licking in between, wetting them with each stroke, as he bobs his head.

“Oh, Void,” Corvo curses. The Outsider can feel Corvo’s cock swell, rock hard and pressing against the curve of his ass. Corvo bucks forward suddenly, when the Outsider scrapes his teeth over the fingers still lodged deep in his mouth.

Pulling out, Corvo takes his fingers instead to the Outsider’s hole, trying to slip the first one in. At least he knows this, plunging the first finger in and out, stretching the Outsider slightly on each hurried thrust. Once the finger moves smoothly, he slots the second in. This time, the friction burns, thick enough that the Outsider hisses. 

He's so unaccustomed to touch, that every point of contact feels a flame, licking along his skin, trying to crawl inside his skin. But inside, the Outsider is hollow, he is only a flesh-frame he's made dance for Corvo’s amusement. For his own pleasure, too.

Corvo stretches him, though it can't possibly be enough. The Outsider knows little better, bucking back to meet Corvo’s hand. Their rhythm is sloppy, but the Outsider doesn't care. He wants more. He wants to be pulled wide around the head of Corvo’s blasted cock. Knowing full well how thick it is. He's watched. He knows. At least, he thinks he knows, until he hears the surprised sound of his own voice, as Corvo pushes in. 

The Outsider tries to catch his breath, but it runs too fast without legs to carry it. And Corvo’s hips make up the difference, slamming hard into the Outsider, stunned beneath him. Corvo grabs at his shoulders, trying to find enough leverage to keep them going at a pace that seems impossible. The burn of it is too much, and it won’t turn from pain into waves of pleasure. The Outsider can already tell it won’t.

But it’s still Corvo’s lips, biting in his mouth, hard enough that maybe blood should stain his teeth. The Outsider isn’t really sure. The Outsider’s mouth is dry. Was it always this way?

Sweat drips between their bodies as Corvo ruts, his eyes wide, locked on the Outsider’s. The Outsider wraps his legs about Corvo’s hips, binding their bodies together. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that Corvo is unpracticed, that he’s raw and driven, cockier than he should be. He smiles in the Outsider’s face, grinding his hips in coarse circles once he bores all the way down.

It doesn’t matter, because Corvo is still the most beautiful thing the Outsider has ever seen. Ambiguous and unformed. He’s clawed his way here, onto a ship bound for Dunwall. He’ll accomplish great things. He’ll be terrifying and wonderful. The Outsider knows this, even if he cannot see clearly yet.

“Corvo,” the Outsider wines, trying to work his cock in one hand, between the hard planes of their bodies, friction and desire making them both needy. Does it feel good for Corvo? It must. He may boast about this on another day, when he realizes. Corvo Attano who laid a God bare. How insufferable that will be. The Outsider can’t help but smile.

But Corvo never told his name to the stranger.

He’s too far gone to notice, fucking into the pliant body beneath him, while the Outsider pulls at his hair, hard enough to hurt his scalp. They are feral in their newness. Perhaps they both know that this should feel better. Hurt less. Or, maybe, it’s true that they like the pain.

The Outsider is still undecided. 

Corvo spills inside him, un-tender desire filling him to the brim. The Outsider breathes heavily, raking his palm over his cock, trying to coax his orgasm free. When he comes, it splashes over Corvo’s stomach, his own chest, leaving them both sticky and wet.

Dropping his head between his shoulders, Corvo comes dangerously close to kissing him in tenderness. Taking the initiative, the Outsider presses their lips together. And it's so, so much better than their inexperience should allow.

The Outsider will remember this, for a long time to come. When he is cold, alone in the Void, darkness curled around his limbs, threatening to choke him, return him to the Empty, where humans are supposed to go when they die. All humans, save for him.

Corvo pulls out, his flaccid cock dropping against the inside of his thigh. There's still a thread of desire, coiling through the Outsider’s bones, that makes him want to drop to his knees, lick along the shaft. If only because this might be his final opportunity to know, to feel the sharp pain of living. Otherwise, his existence is so dull.

“I won't see you again,” Corvo almost sounds sad, his voice soft in the lamplight. Diffused.

“You will,” he cannot say too much. The Outsider tries to sit up, drawing his knees towards his chest. He aches with each twitch of his body. He is open and wet.

Corvo shakes off the suggestion, “I leave for Gristol in the morning. I--” he stops short of sharing more. That's fine. The Outsider already knows.

Resting his chin on bent knees, the Outsider is equally coy, “I'm sure of it. You’ll see me again.”

Corvo smiles, before they part.

\--

The Outsider tries not to care, when Corvo forgets his face, if not the night.

It can't be helped. Human memory is finite. Corvo was drunk, and young, and a great deal happens in the intervening years.

But it also cannot be helped that Corvo is very handsome, and very dear. And the Outsider aches with want just as much now as he did those years ago. He gives Corvo many gifts, expecting only amusement in return.

It is not until well after Empress Emily Kaldwin, First of her Name, takes her throne, for a second time, that Corvo relinquishes.

“I'll make it up to you,” he can't look the Outsider in the eyes, “I know better now.”

The Outsider knows, as well. He has seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](imperfectkreis.tumblr.com)


End file.
